


Simone Rameau and the Heart of Biboon

by 419Jhat



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Ilvermorny - Fandom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-30
Updated: 2018-05-30
Packaged: 2019-05-15 20:48:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14797715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/419Jhat/pseuds/419Jhat
Summary: Simone Rameau hasn’t had much in life, so when she’s accepted into the most prestigious school for wizards and witches in America, she knows it is an opportunity she can’t afford lose. But her natural curiosity paired with mysterious activity on the school grounds might take it from her before she’s even gotten started.





	1. The Meeting at The Siren's Eye

**Author's Note:**

> This is a story that has been on my mind for a while now. I got the idea after JK updated Pottermore to include information on Ilvermorny. I've changed some of the information she's given to fit the story and the world, so it doesn't rely on the Pottermore posts too much. I want to know what other people think, so I'll upload the first two chapters and if enough people are interested I'll keep posting. I'm a college student who works full time over summer so I'm going to apologize in advance because updates just can't happen at a guaranteed schedule. I'd really appreciate constructive criticism in your reviews alongside any continuity errors you find. Its a big story, and I've already got the plot planned out into four books, and I've changed a lot of stuff on the way so I might miss some things on accident.
> 
> It was after that I started working on this that I realized there were some parts that were similar to the Alexandra Quick series (a great story, check it out if you haven't!), but I'd read it so long ago that I wasn't sure. I told the author about about my story and they said it was cool for me to post it, so I decided to go ahead. 
> 
> Thanks for the interest, and I hope you like it! :)

“Hey! Put the book down and look at me while I’m talking to ya’!”

Simone startled and dropped her book as she sat up, eyes wide and mouth clamped shut. In the water, sitting a small wooden boat with his bar’s name (The Siren’s Eye) painted in faded loopy letters, was Emmanuel Moise, a man wider than he was tall with a permanently angry expression ironed into his wrinkly face. She’d never gotten along with the man, and he’d never been particularly fond of her either, always ready to whine about children sneaking around and ruining the atmosphere of the neighborhood. He pointed the snapped end of a broken ore at her face.

“I’m holding an event tonight! Silence those fucking owls or I’ll do it for you! It’s been-” He paddled desperately to fight the drifting of his boat, took a few breaths, then pointed the oar at her again. “It’s been two weeks. _Two weeks!_ My customers are complaining! Tell your father if he can’t fix those doors, then he has no business in this swamp!”

With that, he angrily paddled off, muttering to himself in creole. Simone said nothing, but on the inside, she felt that the unusually large number of owls gathered in the trees above her was quite normal for their neighborhood. After all, they’d lived there ever since her brother Eli was a baby.

She stared at his back, curiously tapping her fingers against the boardwalk and wondered what event he could possibly be holding. There weren’t many people in their little community, though more than usual seemed to be wandering around lately. If she had to guess, it would be a couple hundred residents, but it was hard to tell with how often people moved. She’d lived in Yaguya Swamp her whole life, and the only people she could remember staying longer than three years were the seven students at Yaguya Elementary, Mr. Moise, her own family, and Fane, the next-door neighbor that traveled so often that he probably didn’t even count. Then again, there were some residents who seemed to like the privacy Yaguya provided, and lived by themselves, away from the main boardwalk and society in general. She wasn’t allowed to go that far away from the house, so of course, she’d only managed to wander around their property and watch the shadows move behind the curtains.  

An owl- Octric probably- dove from the roof to the shadowy roots of a cypress tree, batting her in the face as he swooped onto his prey. She scowled and stood up to dust herself off. It was time to get up anyway. Mr. Moise was probably serious, and since her father technically wasn’t supposed to bring the owls home, they couldn’t exactly afford any complaints. She bent down to pick up her book, when a muddy foot swooped in and kicked it across the boardwalk.

“Hey-”

“What’s this?” Andre Azolla asked with a dangerous smile on his face, “ _The House on Harpy Hill?_ What a piece of shit, Simon.”

“Don’t call me that,” she said, snatching the book out of his hands.

Andre was an intimidating boy, standing as tall as the average adult at only twelve years old, his tight black curls always forced into a part with copious amounts of jell, like a man of another era. By his side was Manny Garcia, a quiet, unassuming boy whose skin and floppy hair were nearly the same shade of light brown, and Charlie Coste, who had several missing teeth and hair that was bleached by the sun. All three of them were barefoot with their pants rolled up and dripping with mud.

Andre completely ignored her. “We have a mission today, _Simon._ We’re going to buy a broomstick, and you’re going to help us.”

Simone lifted an eyebrow. “What kind of broomstick?”

“We’re gonna’ buy a _Starcatcher 300!”_ Charlie said excitedly.

“You can’t afford that,” she said, grabbing for the book again. Andre lifted it out of reach with one hand and pushed her back with the other.

“Which is where you come in,” he said turning to walk away, “Meet us at the tree house around ten, unless you’re too busy reading this nonsense to have some real fun.”

 “Wait, what’s the plan? What if I don’t want to?” she asked.

Suddenly, loud voices from inside the house behind them interrupted.

“I don’t think you realize the opportunity-!” her brother yelled.

“And that’s the problem- you don’t think!” he father shouted back, his Haitian accent bleeding through with his anger. Andre’s confidence slipped as if he didn’t know what to do with himself, the book hanging limply in his outstretched hand. The boys shifted awkwardly and stayed silent for a moment, only making the argument seem louder than before. Somewhere in the house, a door slammed, and the front door, which had been leaning against the house, slowly tilted over before falling to the floor with a loud BANG! As if given a signal, every single owl in the trees screeched and swooped down into the house, and the boys dropped to the floor, covering their heads, screaming.

“AAAAGH, MAKE IT STOP!” Charlie and Andre yelled.

Finally, when the final owl- a tiny thing that could barely fly in a straight line- had zipped back into the house, there was silence. Simone’s face burned with embarrassment. Andre scrambled up and shoved the book in her arms. “We’ll see you at the usual place around ten. Don’t mess around with the newcomers tonight, and don’t bring any of your _stupid_ owls!”

Before she could say anything, her father appeared in the doorway, looking exhausted and angry as he muttered a line of spells and jerkily swished his wand at the door. He leaned against the frame as it returned to its previous place resting on the frame, broken and ready to fall with the next gust of wind or heavy movement in the house, then limped off without noticing her at all. She could tell when he made his way back to her brother by the way the yelling continued.

“Excuse me, if you’re done with the owls, could you help us out?”

It took Simone a moment to spot the two women in front of her house, appearing to struggle greatly with how to free their raft from the roots of a cypress tree. He face flushed with shame. Had they seen the whole thing? They could definitely hear it. Above them, a man zipped by on a flashy carpet with glittering streams of spare thread flapping in the wind, looking amused at their predicament. He landed further down the swamp at The Siren’s Eye, which was lit up like a dirty lighthouse. She could barely make out figures wandering up and down the stairs to the bar, carrying boxes. A few wizards on brooms looked confused as to where they should land, hovering around in circles like bugs, before they gave up and swooped through the door without getting off.   

“We wouldn’t need help if you’d get your shit together! For Morrigan’s sake, Lenna, you have to push _away_ from the tree! Do you not know what _away_ means? Do I need to find you a dictionary!?”

A woman in bright yellow robes and a matching pointed hat was screaming at the one Simone assumed was Lenna, a small, pudgy woman who seemed frantic to fix the problem.

“You could just use a levitating spell, you know,” Simone said.

The one in yellow robes glared. “We’re squibs sweetheart,” she hissed, “Would _you_ like t try a levitating spell?” She picked a twig off a low hanging tree branch and threw it at her feet. “There’s your wand, Spell-beggar!’

Simone shrunk back and didn’t reply. Why did they have to be so rude? She was only trying to help. The other woman, Lenna, seemed to take pity on her and nervously spoke a second time.

“She’s a kid, Marie, she’s not allowed to use magic yet. Hey, do you think you can get us out of here?”

Simone considered telling her no and going back inside, but she realized that they’d probably get angry and tell her parents. She put her book down and climbed down the steps of the boardwalk to pull out the small canoe her mother used. She blew a dusty spider web off the paddle and tossed it to Lenna, who fumbled a bit before catching it. With two paddles, she and Marie managed to get un-stuck, and they made their way to the boardwalk.

“Why do you have a canoe?” Lenna asked, handing the paddle back to her.

Simone put the paddle back in the boat and pushed the boat back where it was. “My mom’s a squib,” she said, and Marie looked at her for the first time, examining her with beady black eyes and a secretive smile.

“Is she going to the meeting?”

Simone looked back at The Siren’s Eye. Was that the event Moise was talking about? Were all of the Yaguya squibs invited, or just a select few? She watched as a few more arrived on broomstick and crossed that thought out. Clearly it wasn’t only squibs who were going.

“No,” she said, dragging the word out. “At least, I don’t think so. What’s it about?”

 “She’d have told you if it was important to her,” Lenna said, rowing away from Simone, but Marie pressed on.

“Tell your mother about the meeting, I’m sure she’d be interested. You can do magic, right? We need more of your kind too,” she added as Lenna began to steer them away from the house. “It starts in the evening, and the books are free!”

Simone watched them drift away, the promise of free books lingering in her thoughts. She already had things to be doing later, but on the other hand… _free books!_ Inside, a third voice had joined the yelling- her mother. She grabbed her things and headed back inside.

 

~.~.~

 

Armelle Rameau was a thin, willowy woman, with pale skin lined with stress, greying blonde hair, and brown eyes surrounded with dark circles. Fireplace soot had not yet been cleared from her work clothes, and bits of it smeared into her hair as she brushed it from her face in frustration. Her husband, Henri Rameau, stood tall and wide with his long black braids pulled back with a navy sash to match his rumpled robes. There were splotches on Ink on his face and in his beard. The two of them stood opposite of Eli, who looked alone and defeated on his side of the kitchen table.

“Look, can we not have this conversation right now?” Eli asks in a tired voice. Henri didn’t respond, so Simone decided to open the door all the way and take the seat next to her brother. And with all the grace of the average eleven-year old, she then decided to cut in.

“What’s that all over dad’s face? Also, Mr. Moise is mad about the owls making too much noise.”

Armelle looked confused, like she didn’t notice Simone until she began to speak, but caught on quick enough when she looked at Henri’s cheeks.

“What on earth- go wash that off, it could stain your collar! And what is this about Moise?”

As Henri scrubbed his face in the sink, Simone retold the encounter with their least-favorite neighbor. By the end, Armelle looked even more irritated than before.

 “Next time, do as you’ve been told, and don’t even speak to him.”

Simone’s smile dropped. “I didn’t say a word this time-”

“I don’t care. Don’t even look at him, you hear me? If I tell you not to stay away from him, you stay away from him. This is your last warning.” With that said, she turned to Eli with a noticeably softer voice. “And you’re not going to that meeting. It doesn’t even involve you.”

“I’m twenty-eight years old, you can’t exactly stop me,” he said.

“So long as you’re stuck under my roof, you’re not going to associate me with that nonsense.”

 Eli responded, but Simone didn’t hear it over how hard she was thinking. Her mother was extra upset today, but she hadn’t seen her since the morning before. The least she would do is talk to her a bit, right? Simone leaned in with a smile and tried again.  

“Mom, I was just talking to these ladies outside and they said there’s a meeting at The Siren’s Eye tonight, and that Squibs are invited! Is that the one you’re talking about?”

Armelle sent her a look that melted her smile away. She slammed her hand on the table, making everything on it jump. Her lips were white and pinched as she turned to look at Simone. 

“How many times have you been told not to talk to random people wandering around the swamp!? It’s as if you think you can just trapeze around like nothing else matters, stuck in your own little world with your books, and your friends, and your fake wands, practicing underage magic despite it being _against the law._ Yes, I’m not stupid, I see you fooling around every day after school. I am going to tell you right now, so you can’t whine about it later- one more step out of line _,_ and you’re done. You don’t have to worry about what school you’ll be going to next year, because I will have sent you to the school _I_ went to, Tequesta School for Squibs, a boarding school where rule breaking is! Not! Tolerated!” The entire family was so stunned by this outburst that she had time to speak again. “What were you doing outside in the first place, when nobody was home?”

“I was with Andre-” she said quietly, and realized it was the wrong thing to say as her mother’s weathered face began to redden with frustration.

Her mother’s voice was quiet, but forceful. “You do not leave the house when we’re not home.” It was a rule Simone had heard a thousand times over, but never paid attention to, and she wasn’t about to start now, no matter how scary her parents could be.

“I’m not going to that meeting, and neither is your brother. I think we have enough affiliation with those people as it is,” Armelle said with a tone of finality.

“I think they have a lot to offer,” Eli challenged.

“Simone, its nine o’clock. You need to go to bed,” Henri said quickly.

Simone picked up on the hint and ran to her bedroom, book held tightly in her hands. Even with her bedroom door closed, the house was small and barely held together, so their conversation carried. Eli clearly wanted to go to the meeting, but it looked like he’d be stuck in the house. Even after taking a bath and changing her clothes, there was only one thing on Simone’s mind. She was going to meet up with Andre, sneak into that meeting, and get a free book. So what if she broke another rule? Her mother couldn’t actually send her to a school for squibs, could she? Either way, that wasn’t the biggest thing on her mind. She wanted to know what the mysterious meeting was about, and how Andre planned on buying a broomstick. And it looked like her family would be too busy arguing to notice.

 

~.~.~

Fifteen minutes after the last bit of light peeking under her door had been extinguished, Simone carefully snuck out of her bed and unlocked her window. The soft sounds of laughter and excited yelling spilled into her bedroom, but she paid no attention. It wasn’t loud enough to bother her parents, and that was all that mattered. She slid out the window, hiking her brother’s robes up so they wouldn’t get caught. When she landed, the wooden board beneath her feet groaned loud enough for her to freeze and wait to see if anyone noticed. When she felt it was clear, she began to sneak along the path.

The rickety platform her home rested on was connected to an equally shady-looking boardwalk that connected several homes and businesses like a street. She would have to pass three houses, a hotel, a liquor store, and the bodega where they got their groceries before finding the small muddy path that traveled further into the swamp. At the end of this path was a large tree with a ladder leading to a shoddy wooden treehouse supported by branches. Andre, Manny, and Charlie were already inside. Pasted on one of the walls was a large collection of images of the Starcatcher 300. One was being ridden by a famous quodpot player in the middle of the game, lights flashing and fans cheering in the background. Another was an image of the broom being taken apart with little facts about each piece like, ‘ _Now with the option of live bristles!’_ and _‘With freeze-resistant charms for fans of winter sports!’_

They all looked up when she crawled in.

“Alright, what’s your plan?” Simone asked.

“We’re going to steal the siren’s eye from The Siren’s Eye.”

Simone had nothing nice to say about this plan, and immediately thought that she would rather check out the meeting than waste any more time in the treehouse, so it took a moment to comment. “I’m not sure that Moise would like that,” she finally managed.

“Who gives a shit about Moise?” Andre was looking at her as if she were astoundingly stupid. “We want the Starcatcher, and I’ve heard that siren’s eyes are pretty expensive.”

“Yeah, I found this magazine at my place yesterday- it’s what made us think about it!” Charlie said, holding up an odd collection of folded papers magically bound together. The page he held open featured a collection of jars carrying eyes in every shade imaginable. To the side of the page was a large chart for the price depending on the color, condition, density, age, shape, size, smell, and all kinds of other attributes.

“Well, what do you need me for?” Simone asked.

Andre grabbed the magazine from Charlie’s hands and seemed to feign a sudden interest in the chart rather than answer her question.

“I-uh-well,” Charlie stammered, and it was surprisingly Manny who cut in.

“You’re the only one who can actually use magic.”

There was an awkward pause where Charlie and Manny seemed to shift forward a bit, protecting Andre from her heavy gaze.

“And what if I don’t want to?”

“You’ll get to use the broom too,” Charlie said. “We’ll all share it. We could reach the marshes faster with a Starcatcher.”

Simone knew they wouldn’t be exploring the marshes with the broom, which interested her, but not enough to steal from the angriest man in the swamp. “And what if I don’t want to?” she repeated.

“Then we won’t be able to hang out over the school year,” Manny said, “Because you’re the only person we rely on for this kind of stuff, and we’ll need a broom to see Andre after class ends.”

“Yeah, but-”

“We’ve always done everything together,” Charlie said. “It wouldn’t be the same without him. And you haven’t gotten your letter yet, so we could end up havin’ to fly all the way to that fancy witch’s school in Miami.”

“I guess you’ve always been waiting to leave us for somewhere nice though, so its fine if you don’t think it’s worth it,” Andre said with a hint of bitterness. “It’d almost be like cheating if you helped us anyway.”

“We can do it without you,” Charlie said, “It’s just that it would’ve been easier, like everything always is for you.”

Simone was stung by these comments and thrown off by the rapid way they spat them at her. They were more worried about their group staying together than she’d expected, but stealing? From Moise of all people? This would be the dumbest thing they’d ever done. The three of them looked at her with what could only be described as badly hidden disgust and irritation. Why were they so upset with her? Did they honestly think she didn’t care about them?

The idea that they thought she didn’t want to stay friends after going to separate schools made her feel hollow, but it was quickly smothered by a hint of excitement at using a broom to possibly leave the swamp. They could fly to other states, or even the Caribbean, she realized, her heart pounding at the idea. The things they could see and do with that broom…Simone closed her eyes and sighed. She wanted to be at the Siren’s Eye for the meeting anyway, so it didn’t hurt to tag along, did it?

“She’s not gonna’ help us, Charlie. Knew she’d flake out,” Manny hissed sending her a sideways glare.

For some reason, this comment made her bristle, and before she knew what she was saying she’d agreed to help.

 “Great, let’s go!” Charlie said.

They all marched in silence from the treehouse to The Siren’s Eye, which grew louder and louder the closer they got. They knew from experience which boards on the boardwalk to avoid. When they finally reached the side of the building, they could hear the drunken shouts of whatever was happening inside. Simone wondered if the rooms upstairs even serviced guests with how loud it was.

“This way,” Andre said. He led them to a tree that looked right into a window on the first floor. Simone looked at the tree with suspicion. It was too obvious in her opinion, and if they were caught, could they really get down fast enough? She kept her thoughts to herself though, to keep from seeming like she was backing out. Charlie went first since he was the best at climbing trees. Andre went second, followed by Manny, who slipped and needed to be pulled up to the branch the last bit. Simone wrapped her arms around the trunk and tried to climb, but kept sliding every time she got halfway between the branch and the ground.

“You can’t just fly up or something?” Andre bit out.

“You know that’s not how it works,” Simone began, but Andre wasn’t even listening.

“Hurry up,” Manny said, and Simone wanted to hit something. Instead, she kicked off her slippery-soled sneakers and tried again. Finally, she managed to scramble her way up with only a few scratches on her palms and feet. Right away, Andre was spelling out a plan.

“Alright, see the bar?”

Simone peered through the window and wrinkled her nose. Even from where she was, it stunk of alcohol and smoke from the hundreds of candles that lit the place, staining the ceiling black and grey. Mud had been tracked in all over the floor, dead bugs dried out in the windowsills, and old muggle cigarettes lay under the tables and chairs. The walls were made of thin old wood, and the tables were a mismatched collection of different shapes and colors. In the back corner was a tree that the bar was built around, its limbs carried glasses for drinking, bottles of liquor and beer, bundles of herbs, and jars full of strange liquids and unusual ingredients, right next to a narrow staircase that didn’t look very safe.

More people wandered around in the room than she had ever seen at once in her life. Most of them were squibs and werewolves, but there was a small group of fairies sharing a mug of beer with tiny black straws, several wizards wandering by themselves with cloaks pulled tight to hide their faces, and two trolls crouched in a back corner, looking very uncomfortable. The only thing they had in common was the small red book they all held, and it became very clear that this was the purpose of the unusually large crowd. At the center of all of them was a short young woman in muddy grey robes, frayed at the hem, standing on a raised platform where a large pile of the books lay next to her. Only a few people were listening to her- most were leafing through the book and talking to each other while getting very drunk.

“Hey,” Andre said, snapping his fingers in her face, “Do. You. See. The. Bar.”

Simone nodded distractedly. She couldn’t see the cover of the books, but she could see a small image of a man in charcoal robes on the back of them. What were they all talking about? It couldn’t be a book meeting, it had to be about something less…uninteresting, right? She couldn’t imagine those trolls having ever read the book.

“Ok, in the center of the tree is the siren’s eye. It’s in a jar, can you see it?”

Simone tore her eyes from the scene in front of her and nodded again. There was a hollowed-out hole in the trunk of the tree where a small jar sat innocently, as if asking for someone to summon it.

“Good. Now, all you have to do is get the jar.”

Simone looked at the window, then at the jar, then at Andre, then back at the window again. He sent her an impatient look until she finally spoke up. “How am I supposed to get the jar through the window?”

“Just vanish it,” Andre said with a sharp tone.

“I can’t just vanish it, I haven’t learned how to do that, and you know it!” Simone hissed.

“How’re we supposed to know that? You’re the talented one,” Manny said, and Simone rolled her eyes. They were being so prickly today! She carefully stood up and walked all the way to the edge of the branch, grabbing onto a branch above her to keep her balance, as the boys made zero effort to move out of her way. The window, covered in an odd sticky substance that bugs had died in, was disgusting. Its glass was coated in a greyish film she didn’t want to touch. Sadly enough, it seemed she would have to. She placed her hands as close to the lock on the other side and willed it to open. With a loud crack, the window slid open much further than it was supposed to, nearly breaking the second half above it. Nobody in the bar took any notice. She fixed her eyes on the jar and held out her hands.

 “Come,” she whispered to the jar, urging it across the room. Nothing happened. She repeated this several times, and still, nothing happened. What was she doing wrong? She’d summoned things hundreds of times before- it was her favorite spell to use when her mother told her to clean her room. She clenched her fists and tried again. This time the jar jostled, making the eye bob up and down, but it didn’t move any closer.

“Hurry the fuck up Simon!” Andre hissed.

“Come on, please!” she said, closing her eyes to envision the jar flying into her hands. When she opened her eyes, the jar began to bounce up and down, as if it were excited. The drunk fairies seemed to think it was hilarious, mimicking the motion until they fell off the edge of their jug, dizzy and full of giggles.

Simone let out a frustrated sigh. She’d never had trouble summoning something before. Was it the distance? With great care, she slid off the branch and onto the windowsill. She shook out her arms and closed her eyes to concentrate. “Come!” she demanded, and the jar instantly shot across the room, bumping the bartender in the back of the head on the way in a large arch that ended several feet in front of her, headed straight for the floor! She dove forward and caught the jar, bumping into a hag with tattered robes and the scent of dead creatures clinging to her long greasy hair. The hag looked her up and down with a glare.

“You shouldn’t touch things that ain’t yours, child.”

“I’m not a child,” Simone said before she could stop herself. She stealthily hid the jar behind her back.

“Is that…?” someone asked.

The bright yellow outfit was unmistakable- it was Marie, holding one of the books, too!

“Oh, it is! So, you decided to come after all!” she said, but the hag scowled.

“She used magic to steal,” the first hag hissed, “Look at the jar behind her back!”

Marie grabbed Simone’s arm and pulled the jar from her hands. Her eyes widened with outrage. “This is- I can’t believe-” she stammered, her face going purple. “I want to speak to Emmanuel,” she finally managed to spit out. Her hands were shaking around the jar.

 The hag grabbed Simone’s arm, her rotting black nails digging into her skin. “No, wait! Let me go!” she shouted, but the hag dug her claws deeper in her arm and began dragging her toward the staircase. She turned to the window, ready to call for help, but the words died on her tongue. Andre looked startlingly angry. After a fleeting look at the jar in her hands, he punched the side of the wall and disappeared. Her heart sunk. What was she supposed to do now? If Emmanuel Moise found out she tried to steal his siren’s eye she would be killed! She tried to wrench her arm free from the hag’s grip, but her nails were like saws and every time she moved, her arm began to sting horribly. And so, she was dragged up the staircase without fighting. Her heart was beating like a humming bird’s wings. She knew there was no way out of this. Either Moise would kill her, or her mother would when she found out.

The hag opened the door and dragged her down a hallway with doors all along, dark and dingy, but there was a single door at the very end of the hallway painted a dark menacing red. The hag fixed her hair and smoothed her clothes before gently lifting her hand to politely knock on the door.

“Sir,” she said in an overly sweet voice, “I’ve found a thief-”

BANG!

Marie hiked her skirts up and kicked the door down with her bright yellow boots. Inside, Moise and a woman were staring open-mouthed at the squib in her bright yellow clothes and violently angry expression. Marie threw her book to the floor with outrage.

“ _I cannot believe you_ ,” she hissed. “I cannot BELIEVE you! You allow this event in your… establishment and then have _this,”_ she thrust the jar up for everyone to see, sending the eye spinning madly in its liquid, “Sitting in the center like we’re a joke! You DARE accept money from us, knowing why we’re here, with this-this-ABOMINATION sitting in the very bar you’re hosting us!”

Everyone stared open-mouthed at her, even the hag, whose leathery skin tightened with how far up her eyebrows had raised. Simone spotted the spare book on the floor and summoned it to her hands. Nobody paid her any attention. Moise was stuck on Marie, seemingly working out what to say. Then his large face slowly morphed from confusion to anger. His expression grew menacing, so menacing in fact, that the hag apparently thought it better to let Simone go and disappear from the scene all together. Moise stood to his full height, unworried that all he wore was a single loosely tied night robe. “I think you should leave,” he said in a careful voice, “Before I do worse than take your eye and name a bar after it.”

“Fuck your bar, and fuck you,” Marie spat. She turned and threw the jar down the hallway.

CRASH!

It had shattered. The room was so silent they could clearly hear conversations occurring downstairs. Moise was still, but his eyes were completely unhinged with rage. He didn’t smile, he only watched without blinking in a predatory manor that made even Marie take a step back.

Two things happened at once. Moise lunged with a great roar, arms outstretched toward Marie’s neck, and something covered Simone’s eyes. She felt herself quickly swept backwards out of the room, her bare feet sliding off the ground like she was flying, followed by the slam of a door. There was a throat wrenching shriek, horrible high pitched, unlike anything Simone had heard before, followed by several loud thuds.

A second door slammed, and she was forced to sort of stumble backward down the staircase. At the bottom, her eyes were uncovered, and she was dropped onto the floor. She blinked hard and then blinked again. Was it really…?

“Fane,” she breathed.

In front of her was a face she had not seen all summer and half of the previous school year. In the months he had been gone, Fane had somehow become thinner than before, his cheekbones poking through his greyish skin as if it were made of paper. His dust-brown hair had been cut and smoothed back, and dark circles hugged the bottom of his eyelids. But his kind green eyes and large crooked nose had stayed the same. While she was frozen with excitement, he lifted the jar- completely intact- into the air to inspect it.

“Oh, how-”

“I put it back together. Really? A siren’s eye? You’re better off returning it. They’re not worth much now that the Merpeople’s classification is being debated.” He turned to her with an unimpressed look.  “You have two choices. You can come with me, or I can drag you home by your braid.”

“I-I’ll go with you,” she muttered, looking at the book with unfocused eyes. When she brought herself to look up again, he had already headed for the door.

 

~.~.~

 

Fane’s house was the most beautiful home in the swamp, and yet, it still fit in perfectly. It stood three stories tall, entirely built out of a dark, almost black wood with a strange, bitter smell that never failed to offend her nose as she walked by. Inside was no better. Simone didn’t know what Fane did in his spare time, but his house smelled like death. The hundreds of candles floating against the walls only added a slightly smoky tinge to the air, and she couldn’t decide whether it helped or not. 

As they walked through the foyer to the sitting room, the candles lit themselves, exposing the intricate carvings on the staircase and dusty cream and plum-colored wallpaper. The entire house looked like it hadn’t been touched since he’d left. Portraits on the walls blinked awake as the lights came on, and some said hello, excited to see anyone after such a long stretch of loneliness, other were more irritated with their sleep being disturbed. “I see you’ve finally decided to return,” the portrait of a heavy-set man muttered with a strong Scottish accent, his arms folded. “You must find us so boring to leave us for such a long time.”

He continued complaining as they waked on by, following them through every portrait until they’d reached the sitting room, and there was no portrait for him to slip into. Heavy plum curtains parted and tied themselves to the side while doors and windows swung open of their own accord. Furniture lifted to let rugs flop the dust out of themselves and books in the large book cases slipped out and shook themselves out before gently returning to their places.

The cloud of dust hung around Simone’s head height, making her sneeze several times in a row before Fane finally sent it out with a flick of his wand following a strong gust of wind. “Wait here,” he said, leaving her by herself. She moved to sit in a comfy armchair with a pile of blankets, but it jumped back as she approached it. She took another step forward and it slid backward until it slammed into the wall.

“Fine,” she muttered, switching to the chair next to it. Outside the window, she could see her own home. The lights were mostly off, and the owls had been let back outside apparently, because hundreds of glowing eyes blinked at her from every direction. One of them screeched and she jumped, suddenly reminded of Marie and the way she screamed. What did Moise do to make her scream like that? Her hands brushed against Marie’s book. Whatever had Marie all worked up had something to do with it, and didn’t know whether she should open it or forget about Marie and toss it in the swamp. She looked back at the blanketed chair and kicked her feet up to rest them on the chair that kept sliding. The second her bare feet touched the chair, there was a loud yowl.

“AAAAHHH!” Simone screamed, pulling her knees to her chest. The blankets on the chair began to squirm. Was the chair alive? Did she hurt it? With a loud crack, Fane was standing in front of her with a large book in his arms. He dropped the book on the coffee table and gathered the blankets in his arms. A tiny sand-colored head poked out. The creature had enormous ears and a sharp, tiny face with large, dark eyes watching her with a look of irritation.

“Did you sit on her?” he asked.

“No!” she protested, “I put my feet on the chair and it screamed at me!”

“She just doesn’t know you yet. Hold out a hand,” he said, thrusting the creature at her. She was of the opinion that it didn’t like her because she dropped her feet on its face, but Fane looked so confident that she slowly stuck a hand out, palm up. It eyed her for a bit, sniffed her, eyed her again, and finally stuck out a tiny pink tongue and licked the tips of her fingers.

“See she likes you,” Fane said, then he dropped the blankets and creature in her lap. “Her name is Artemis. She’s a fennec fox a friend gave me while I was visiting. I’m keeping her, so you’ll want to get along.”

“Where did you go?” Simone asked. “Eli was worried.”

“Around,” he said with a shrug, as if disappearing for half a year was no big deal.

“Well, you left the swamp, right? What was it like?”

“It was as it always is,” he said, and Simone knew she wouldn’t get anything out of him this time either.  

She ran a hand across Artemis’s head, who burrowed her face into Simone’s lap. She was surprisingly heavy for her size, but she paid it no attention as Fane took the book form the coffee table and handed it to her too. It was clearly old and expensive, bound in leather with painted flowery vines that slowly grew and died. The tile, _Legends Untold_ , was written in cursive across the cover. It was also very heavy. She awkwardly held it at her own chest-height, above Artemis’s head, but also under her own eyesight so she can see Fane. When she opened the book, it was to a title page. _Sigifuns the Brave,_ it read, with a hand-painted image of a knight on a horse racing through a frightening forest. Occasionally, a glimpse of his pursuers would cut into the image. Several pages later was another title, _Madhitma the Wise,_ with a picture of the same knight bending at the knee for a woman covered only by her long black hair, bathing in a desert oasis.

“Congratulations,” he said with a soft smile.

“On what?”

“Summer is almost over. You’ll be switching schools soon.”

The mention of school made Simone sad. “I haven’t even gotten my letter yet,” she said softly.

Fane was quiet for a moment until he took the book from her hands and placed it on the coffee table. “You’ll get your letter soon, and wherever you go will be a great school.” He said this with such confidence that Simone briefly wondered if it was possible for him to already know where she would be going. That was ridiculous though- Fane wasn’t a seer. With a wave on his wand, the siren’s eye and a pair of shiny men’s dress shoes floated into the room.

“Now, you should really get home before your parents realize you’ve been missing.” He pointed his wand at the shoes and said, “ _Diminuendo_.” The shoes shrunk down to a size she could wear.

“Thanks, Fane,” she said. She slipped the shoes on with a smile, thinking they were cute in an odd way, gathered the books and jar, and wandered back to the foyer.

“Oh, leaving again are we? Wonder when she’ll be back next, probably in two years’ time at this rate,” the Scottish portrait whined.

“Shut up, I’m trying to sleep,” another portrait hissed.

“Simone?” Fane called, as she opened the door.

Simone turned back to him, almost expecting some sort of lecture.

“Forget about what happened in the Siren’s Eye,” he said. And then, with a sharp crack, he disapparated.

Outside, several owls screeched as she sneaks her way back toward the house, but fell silent one they realized who it was. She threw the books and jar onto her bed through the window and slipped through with ease. Once inside, she closed the window with a sharp click and smiled to herself. She’d somehow managed to make it back home, even with the jar! She couldn’t wait to tell the others-

“Where were you?”

Simone jumped and spun on her heel. It took her a moment to see her brother, because he was sitting on the floor, looking up at her like she had, well, just snuck back into her own bedroom at a very late hour. Eli Rameau was very clearly her relative. People often mistook him as her father, since he was old enough for that to be the case, and they looked far more like each other than they did their parents. In fact, right down to their curly dark hair, tan skin, and wide noses, the only difference between them, other than their ages and his shadow of a beard, were their eyes. While Eli’s were dark brown, Simone’s were an odd, bright amber that neither of their parents possessed.

“Where were you?” Eli repeated.

Simone didn’t know how to respond.

“Uh…”

“And are those my robes? Simone, what is wrong with you? Did you not hear mom? You need to be more careful!”

“I just wanted to go to that meeting,” she lied.

            Eli looked less angry with that.

“What did you think about it?” he asked.

Simone thought about it for a moment. She hadn’t really seen much, since she hadn’t been there for the meeting. In fact, the only part of the meeting she had seen was Marie, which was awful, and she didn’t want to think about at all. “Someone was very upset with Moise,” she finally said, “Because of the bar’s name. Everyone else seemed really excited.”

Eli nodded, looking as if she’d said what he’d expected.

“That bar disgust me,” he said more to himself, “I can’t believe they’d meet there, with its history. But I guess it can’t be helped.”

“What do you mean?” she asked.

            Eli looked at her contemplatively. She looked back at her bed and got an idea.

“By the way,” she said, grabbing the book, “I figured you would want this.”

She handed the book to him and his face lit up. He ran a hand across the back, over the man’s picture, then looked up at her with determination.

“You know, before you were born, Moise was challenged by a wizard over the name of his bar. It was just a joke, but it was a joke about Moise being a squib, so he took it personally. He closed the bar, and three weeks later, came back with an eye in a jar. Everyone thought he’d just bought it until they saw the newspapers- the Merpeople were very angry that he’d stolen a siren’s eye, and were causing all kinds of chaos because of it. _Some_ people, like Moise, thought they were just acting out. But there were others who felt that he should’ve been punished. If a siren had stolen a _wizard’s_ eye, it would have been a very different story. But that’s not the world we live in, so he still runs that disgusting bar, just down the boardwalk, and people flock to see the proof of his… _accomplishment._ ”

Eli stared at her with hard eyes, sounding bitter, and serious, and so unlike himself that Simone began to feel nervous.

“I don’t get it. Why would everyone get so worked up over an eye? Can’t the siren just get a new one?” she asked.

Eli looked very serious while he spoke. “Because its more than just an eye, Simone. It’s so much more than that.”

They sat in silence for several moments, Eli watching her as she struggled with the concept of an entire race becoming angry over someone stealing an eye, and what more there could possibly be to the story. As much as she didn’t like Moise, she just didn’t understand why what he did was worth all that anger. So, he’d stolen an eye. The Siren could just get another one to bottle up and sit on some underwater shelf. If Sirens even had shelves. Now that she thought about it, whatever creature the Siren got the eye from in the first place should be the one everyone got upset for. She tried not to look down at the jar sitting on her bed. Would people get mad at her if they found out she’d stolen the eye too? She really needed to get rid of that thing.

Eli opened his mouth to say something, but a knock on the door interrupted him

“Simone?” her mother’s voice called. The door swung open before she could reply. Armelle looked frazzled, but the sight of Eli made her pause. “What are you doing in here? Never mind, I just got a letter from my parents. They will be visiting tomorrow, so I need the both of you to get up and help clean the house.”

“But mom,” Simone began, but her mother steamrolled over her words with a laundry list of things to do, waving what she assumed to be the letter as she spoke.

“Eli, you can help your father get the whole house clean and looking presentable. That means no dirt, no owls, none of your junk lying all over the place,” she said with a pointed look at Simone, “Dishes washed, and laundry clean and put in the closets. We need to find a way to fix everything that broke in the hurricane, like the kitchen window and the front doors. Simone, I need you to clean your room, collect the trash around the whole house- that means all the bedrooms, the kitchen, the extra fireplace soot, and the bathrooms. Put away all of the things you have lying all over the place, find a way to keep the owls outside, and then when you’re done, help me cook dinner, because they’re very particular about what they like.”

With that, she whirled out of the room, still talking to whoever could hear her, manually lighting all of the candles around the house with muggle matches, which weren’t nearly as bright as when done with magic. The second she couldn’t hear them, Simone turned to Eli.

“Have you ever met mom’s family?”

Eli shook his head, and his words were bit out with an unmistakable hint of anger.

“They’ve never stopped by before, but I’d bet everything I have that they’re here to gloat.”

“About what?”

“One of our cousins was recently accepted to Stritmatter. Again.”

He walked out of the room. Simone felt she was clearly missing something, but her mind was occupied with the upcoming lengthy process of cleaning the entire house. She put the book and jar on the nightstand next to her bed, and as she followed her brother out the door, she could have sworn the siren’s large lilac eye was staring right at her. 


	2. The Terrible Terreur

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is shorter, but I felt like it had to end there. Anyway, I might post a third chapter within the next few days but like I said, I have everything planned out but I just have to write it, which is the hard part for me.

Simone woke the next morning to unfamiliar voices.

“Eli?” she mumbled, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. But none of the voices sounded like anyone she knew. Her eyes widened.

She shot out of bed and rushed down the stairs without glancing at a mirror and stopped at the very last step. In the sitting room and kitchen were a group of people she had never seen before. There was a very old man in fine blue robes that buttoned over his large belly and halfway down his calves, where they exposed his pinstriped pants and shiny black shoes. His white hair was slicked over, as if attempting to hide the large bald spot on the crown of his head, but his bicycle mustache was thick and perfectly styled. Next to him was an equally old woman, back straight, turned-up nose in the air while examining the room around her, dressed in silky pale pink with beautiful pearl jewelry and a small matching witch’s hat. Simone realized these two must be her grandparents. She could see her mother in them, in the man’s brown eyes and straight nose, and the woman’s greying blonde hair and short stature.

She immediately recognized the others as her mother’s siblings. There was a man who looked just like her grandmother, short with blonde hair, a strong chin and sharp black robes, a tall woman with brown hair tucked into a complicated braided bun with sweeping green robes, and a short woman, the only of the three with their father’s eyes, brown hair cut to her chin, and fitted red robes that matched her lips. Simone suddenly felt severely underdressed in her muggle tang top and polka dot pajama pants.

They all stared at her, quiet and impatient, though she didn’t know what they possibly could have been waiting for when they’d just arrived. She looked down at her clothes and imagined the frizzy bed-head she must have been sporting and felt her cheeks flush. Her mother would kill her for sleeping late and greeting them like this.

The old man looked at her as if she didn’t know where she was. “Hello,” he said slowly with a rich southern accent, “My name is Clovis Terreur. This is my wife, Alcida Terreur. What is your name?”

Simone raised an eyebrow and glanced at her mother’s siblings, who were sending her looks of pity, then back at her grandparents. “Simone. Simone Yves-Rameau,” she said, feeling they would expect her full name for some reason. He looked mildly surprised and coughed, smoothing down his robes.

“You are Armelle’s daughter, I assume?” he asked in a normal voice.

Before she could answer, the woman in red stepped forward. “Hello Simone, it’s so great to meet you!” She pulled her into a tight hug, then spun her to face the others, an arm clasped around her shoulders. Her accent was an equally fancy high society southern drawl.

“My name is Miette Matisse, the youngest. That,” she said, pointing to the short man, “Is Victor Terreur. He is the oldest. Next to him is Joan Lescaut, the second-oldest.”

“She’s not going to care about the order of our births,” Victor said coolly.

“She might!” Miette said. “It gives her an idea about the age of her cousins.”

“Oh Simone, that reminds me, have you gotten your letter yet?” Alcida asked, looking interested in her surroundings for the first time since Simone came down the stairs.

“Well, no,” Simone said.

Alcida wrinkled her nose like she had smelled something bad. “That’s not very good is it dear? Its nearly July, most schools have sent their letters by now. Have you ever heard of such a thing? Sending a letter so late?”

Clovis shook his head gravely. “I’ve certainly never heard of it. Victor, how long did it take for Sofie to receive her letter from Salem?”

“She’d received it by now,” he said, looking very bored.

“Joan, what about Isabelle?”

“Stritmatter sent their letter by the first of June,” Joan said with a smug look. “I suppose we don’t have experience with the more… _local_ schools though. Maybe since it’s not a boarding school, she won’t need as much notice to pack her things.”

“That’s true,” Alcida said with an almost mockingly sad tone, “I imagine those schools are more last minute.”

“I had a friend whose brother had a friend that went to one of those schools,” Joan said in a hushed voice, “From her description, I’d expect that kind of nonsense.”

 “Simone, do you have any idea of what school you may end up in?” Alcida asked.

Every adult in the room quieted to hear her answer.

“No…” she said slowly.

“Clovis, you don’t think…it’s not possible…have you ever heard of… _not being accepted?”_ She whispered the last part like it was a sin. Joan and Miette gasped, placing a hand over their mouths. Victor pursed his lips and nodded sadly.

“I’ve only ever heard of it happening to those who fail their BATs,” Clovis said.

“Well how could someone possibly fail their BATs? You must know _something_ about magic if you’re taking them!” Alcida exclaimed.

“The practical side of the test costs 80% of the grade,” he said, “And the only way to fail that would be if you couldn’t even perform.”

They all looked at Simone with a silence that said a lot, but she’d been rendered speechless. She knew they were messing with her, but she didn’t know why. She thought back to the day she’d taken her BATs. The test wasn’t very difficult, but maybe she’d thought that because she knew nothing? None of the proctors seemed impressed, after all. What if she’d failed? What if she’d done so badly that no school wanted her? Instead of responding and risking sounding very dumb, she walked into the kitchen, very aware of their gazes, like a weight on her back.

“Would you like anything to drink?” she asked. As she filled their requests, she suddenly noticed how much they stood out. The sitting room and kitchen were not only small, but open, making the rooms seemed very crowded with all of them in it. They looked as if they would fit in better in Fane’s house than her own, which was eclectic and not nearly as put-together. Even their dining room table had different kinds of chairs rather than a matching set, regretfully reminding her of Moise’s bar.

            It was then that the fireplace roared, and her mother and brother appeared. They all carried bags of ingredients, probably for the rest of the dinner she’d been planning. Armelle’s face lost its color, and she dropped her bags on the floor.

            “Mother,” she said, taking a step forward with her arms stretched out for a hug, but Alcida didn’t reciprocate the action.  In fact, she took a small step back. Armelle awkwardly dropped her arms. Alcida smiled sweetly.

            “It’s nice to see you dear,” she said, cutting into the silence, “We’ve been talking to your lovely daughter Simone. She’s been telling us all about the local schools.”

            Armelle looked at Simone and her face lost all color once again. She laughed the fakest laugh Simone had ever seen and pushed Simone toward the stairs.

            “I get that they arrived early, but you should have taken a bath and gotten dressed by now, no? Go put some clothes on and comb your hair.”

            It was after she’d taken a shower that she began to wonder why such put-together people would show up anytime other than when they stated they would. She had a feeling it had something to do with their weird attitudes. She slipped on the robes her mother mentioned twelve separate times she was to wear in their presence and walked down the stairs once again. They were all seated around the dining table, extra chairs pulled from who knows where, still talking about schools. Eli couldn’t be seen in the room.

            “Miette’s boys all attend Stritmatter. It’s a fine school from what I’ve heard. Several of my colleagues went there and have nothing but praise for it. Their quodpot team has always been exceptional. Many players move on to play professionally, and their professors are some of the best in the world. With how well the first two have done, we expect little Remy will excel there.”

            “We’ll be shopping for his clothes tomorrow,” Miette said with a pleased smile.

            “Isabelle loves it there,” Joan cut in. “She’s promised to help Remy with his first year, as she did so well last year. We were surprised, as the expectations are so high, but it was as easy as waving a wand. And still, she’s learned so much.”

“So where did Eli go, Armelle?” Miette asks.

Armelle looked happy to be included in the conversation. “He attended Tequesta School of Magical Trade.”

Simone noticed her mother had gained an accent during her shower.

“Oh, a local school? What do they mean by trade?”

“The children split into specialties after their third year and began their apprenticeships early. Eli chose creature wrangling. He works for a business that keeps the swamp safe.”

“I see,” she said, looking as if she didn’t like the idea very much. “Creature wrangling is such a dangerous job.”

“It would be better to be wrangling something other than swamp creatures,” Alcida muttered so only Clovis and Simone could hear. Simone personally thought her brother’s job was unbelievably cool, but once again said nothing. Her mother would kill her if she pissed anyone off today. There was a pause in the conversation as her mother’s family all sent each other knowing looks. Simone noticed that Armelle was much kinder to her family than she would have been to anyone else behaving this way. If _she_ had spoken with that tone, about _Eli_ of all things, she would’ve been sent to her room and forgotten for the rest of the day! But instead, a moment later, when their drinks were empty, she stood up and offered to refill them. As she walked around the table with a jug of iced tea, she found another topic of conversation.

“How is your husband, Miette?” she asked.

“He’s doing just fine. The newspaper has begun to cover more than just MACUSA stories, so he may start travelling more often. The kids will love that, since he always brings them back fun things to play with.”

“And Natasha, Victor?” Armelle asked, pouring his glass as well.

“She recently reconnected with her family. They missed her so much they didn’t even mind her being a witch- claimed it must have been god’s plan and even asked for an owl to contact her regularly. They don’t like her not attending church though. Can’t win them over with everything.”

“What about your-”

“And what do you do for a living, Armelle?” Joan cut in. “It must be very hard to find a job these days with that law being passed soon.”

Armelle looked up with confusion. “What law?”

“The law against non-magical persons holding jobs in a magical society,” she answered with her head tilted to the side. Armelle looked stunned, and then slowly turned to her father. He seemed to refuse to look at her, and gently sipped from his glass while staring straight at the wall.

“I did not know about this,” she said with a shaky voice, “But for now, I work for Congress.”

Their eyes widened, and Clovis choked on his drink. “Doing what, pushing letters for the post office?”

Armelle straightened her back and lifted her chin. “I work for the Department of Hazards, charting the age and the different effects of ancient magical artifacts.”

“Are your coworkers of the same…situation?” Miette asked. Armelle nodded.

“Why would they trust you with that?” Victor burst out, clearly outraged. “Someone could steal something, and they would never know!”

“Though I can use the artifacts, they trust us to test them because we would be unable to get past the magic that keeps them there,” Armelle explained. “It would be impossible for us to steal, and that is exactly what they wanted from us.”

“What kind of artifacts do you work on?” Joan asked, “I have a friend who is a few departments above and would _love_ to know.”

“I’ve taken an unbreakable vow. I can’t talk about it,” Armelle said. They all nodded as if they’d expected this answer. “I can say that the definition of an artifact isn’t just objects, but also ancient curses and charms as well.”

“I will tell the truth Armelle, I never expected you to work for MACUSA,” Clovis said quietly. Armelle smiled at this, but Simone heard it more as an insult. Armelle bit her bottom lip for a second, and when she spoke, her voice was soft and watery.

 “Father, what would you like for dinner?”

 

~.~.~

 

For dinner, Simone and her mother made a mixture of Haitian foods, or as Clovis had asked for, a collection of what she made best. Eli had apparently gone to work and would be back in time to eat, and there was no telling when Simone’s father would get back, with the beginning of the school year being a very busy season for the owl post office, so it was just them. Her mother anxiously sent him several owls, but none of them had returned so he must have been completely swamped.

They plated the table with a beautiful set Simone didn’t even know they had- a set of flowery bowls, plates, and mugs that her mother forced her to wash three times despite copious complaints until she was positive there was no more dust. They covered the table with a peach table cloth that matched the flowers, and a second table cloth made of white lace that Armelle made her rearrange at an angle to form a diamond shape. Her mother pulled peach-colored napkins from a drawer that had always been locked from Simone’s touch, and folded them gently next to every plate, alongside complete matching silverware from the same drawer- since their usual silverware was as mismatched as the chairs at the table.

 They served Griyo, Macaroni au Gratin, Beef Pate, a whole baked fish, Soup Joumou, red bean sauce, rice with black mushrooms and shrimp, fried plantains, and conch in a savory tomato sauce. The nice glasses had been put out, ready to be filled with iced tea, water, or cremas, a drink Simone was told she wasn’t allowed to touch.

 When it was finally time to eat, the food was at the perfect temperature. The family seemed impressed with the way everything had been displayed, and they all placed their napkins politely on their laps. Simone copied them. They all sat still, backs stiff and hands placed on their laps. Simone copied them then, too, not really sure what they were doing. After a few moments like this, Armelle let out a sigh and grabbed her father’s plate. She began neatly placing bits of every dish on it and sent Simone a look that meant she was supposed to help. She quickly put her napkin back on the table and grabbed her uncle’s plate to add different foods, though not as gracefully. When everyone’s plates were filled, everyone meaning everyone except Simone and Armelle, they began to eat.

 “There are no greens,” Miette said in a remarkably pouty voice for an adult.

  “Father asked for what I cook best,” Armelle answered.

  “Armelle, can you pour my drink?” Victor asked.

  “Mine as well,” Joan said.

  “You should at least know how to make a Salad,” Miette muttered, poking at her plantains. Armelle got up from her seat and pour everyone’s drinks. When she sat down again, Alcida got a dramatically worried look on her face.

  “I must say, I’m used to the food and drinks being plated magically, but I suppose you can’t ask Simone to do that, can you?”

   “Why’s that?” Armelle asked.

   “Well, with her failing the BATs…” she trailed off

    Armelle looked shocked. She slowly huddled into Simone’s personal space, her long hair acting as a momentary curtain from the rest of the family. Their faces were so close she could smell cremas on her breath, her eyes painfully wide and serious.

  “Did a letter arrive this morning? Why didn’t you say anything? How could you let them learn about this? Before me!?” she whispered quickly.

  Fear rushed through Simone like water had been poured over her head, cowing her and forcing her to shrink back in her chair. But after remembering she hadn’t done anything, irritation quickly followed. She was sick and tired of this talk about schools and letters. In fact, she didn’t want to hear about it ever again! At this moment, having failed the BATs seemed was perfectly acceptable to her. She’d never have to talk about school again, _and_ she could make Andre stop being so angry with her. She almost considered telling her mother that it was true, that she did fail, but the desperation in Armelle’s eyes, and the thought of how odd it was that her grandparents kept bringing it up made Simone reconsider at the last second.

“I didn’t get a letter yet,” she finally said. The look of relief on her mother’s face made her angry.  

  “Mother, why would you say that?” Armelle asked. “Simone can perform magic just like Eli and their father.”

 Simone stabbed at her food and darkly wondered why her mother was so confused seconds before, if she was so sure about that.

“Well, earlier she said she didn’t think she passed,” Alcida said with a shrug.

 “I didn’t say that. I didn’t say anything, actually,” Simone said, but nobody was listening.

  “Right, and we’d just assumed, considering the circumstances. It was a surprise that your oldest had passed, after all,” Miette said, still poking at her fried plantains.

  “With your only other child working as a creature wrangler at a swamp,” Victor said. “I personally just assumed that your influence in their talents would be strong.”

 “That’s why congress is debating that law,” Clovis said. “It’s unfair for your kids to have been dampened like this. No child should end up like that.”

 “What in the hell is that supposed to mean?”

 They all turned to see Eli standing in the sitting room, wearing his durable work clothes, spelled dry, meaning the swamp creature blood still stained the front of his pants. He looked angry, his eyes brows so furrowed it was like they’d join into one.

“Well,” Victor said, placing his napkin on the table and shifting to face Eli, “Its simply fact. Everyone knows that the magically uninclined are likely to pass their situation onto their children.”

 “ _Magically uninclined?”_ Eli quoted, “ _Situation_? Why don’t you say it for what you really think it is- Squibs, passing on their _disease!_ ”

  There was a loud gasping sound. Victor stood up, Clovis following shortly after, throwing his napkin to the floor.

  “I can’t believe you would accuse us of-” Clovis began, but Eli cut him off.

  “I’m not accusing you of anything! I’m pointing out the truth! I’ve been sitting here, watching you order my mother around like a house elf, saying snide comments about my little sister’s education! You came to _our_ house, and you’re treating my family like shit! She has welcomed you in here and made you dinner after everything you’ve done to her, and you can’t even keep your bigoted mouths shut long enough for one peaceful dinner!”

 And suddenly, it all made sense. Simone’s irritation with her mother fell to the back of her mind and she recalled the snide comments, the sideways looks, the way Clovis had been speaking to her when they’d arrived- they thought she was a Squib, and clearly hated the fact that her mother was. But the only thing she could focus on, was that Eli had known all of this. Why hadn’t she been told? Did Armelle think she couldn’t handle the truth? Or, a dark voice in the back of her head hissed as she remembered her mother’s reaction to her possibly failing the BATs, did she not think she deserved to know? 

 “You claim to be pointing out the truth when you’re talking about things you weren’t alive to witness!” Clovis yelled. “You don’t know what happened twenty years ago, you only know your mother’s biased version of the events!”

“I’d trust my mother’s biased version over yours any day. She doesn’t have a reason to lie,” Eli spat.

  “Well!” Alcida said, a hand on her heart. “I don’t like the way your son is talking to my husband, Armelle. I think we’re going to leave early.”

 “No!” Armelle said, standing up with her hands out, “Eli will apologise, he’s just misunderstood what you mean.”

Eli looked at Armelle with shock. “They just accused you of making us not have as much magic. They made fun of my job and admitted to assuming Simone was a squib because you’re her mother.”

 Armelle walked over to Eli and pulled him outside. Simone stayed at the table, quiet and uncomfortable sitting next to these people. As if to harden her stance, Victor and Clovis sat down once again, furiously muttering about out-of-control children and Squibs not knowing how to raise wizards.

“Simone, dear, you know that’s not what we meant from all of that stuff,” Alcida said, rubbing Simone’s forearm in a comforting manor. All Simone could focus on was how her nails matched the robes she wore, and the giant glimmering ring on her wedding finger. She had realized they were well off, but the ring made her wonder just how well off they were. _How could someone so mean become so rich,_ she wondered.

“You’re pathetic!” Eli shouted loud enough for them to hear, and the back door swung open. Only, rather than Eli walking through, a beautiful orange and brown owl Simone had never seen before came swooping in with a letter in its talons. The owl dropped the letter on the table in front of Simone, and then made a large circle around the kitchen before ducking outside, probably to sit next to all the other owls.

Alcida made an excited noise and grabbed the letter before Simone could. “Oh, Armelle, Simone’s letter just arrived!” Her smile was maliciously excited, and she waited until Armelle and Eli had come back inside, and all eyes were on her before dramatically flipping it over. Her smile slipped. She brought the letter closer to her eyes, as if she needed glasses. Then she dropped back into her seat, barely caught by Clovis.

 “Well, what does it say?” Miette asked. She and her siblings looked worried. Simone was too, but for a completely different reason. She almost didn’t even want to hear it. What could be worse than not even passing? Was she in trouble somehow? She suddenly thought back to the siren’s eye on her night stand and her heart skipped a beat. What if they knew? What if this was a letter stating she wouldn’t be allowed to go to school for stealing? Oh Morrigan, her mother would kill her.  

  “Mother?” Armelle asked, leaning over Alcida’s shoulder to look. She too, went very silent.

  “Oh for goodness’ sake!” Clovis yelled, “You haven’t even opened it yet! Who is it from!?”

 Alcida lifted the letter for everyone to see, then turned it over. Behind them, the fireplace roared to life, Henri jumping out like he’d been burned, but nobody paid it any attention. The envelope was a thick, creamy white, with a faint geometric pattern that shimmered under the correct lighting. Written across the back in burgundy ink was:

_Ms. Simone Yves- Rameau_

_Fourth Home on the North Boardwalk_

_Yaguya Swamp_

_Florida_

And sealing it shut, was the cranberry, teal, and gold wax seal of the Ilvermorny School of Witcraft and Wizardry.


End file.
